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What would it be like to face death with those facts before you?
I lay a hand on his shoulder. "I don't know if I have the right to say anything to you right now," I tell him, knowing that as a guidance counselor at a high school I get paid to listen to people tell me their problems. And I do my best to encourage them. "But if you want to talk... I'm here for you. I can be a shoulder to cry on."
He drops his hand, taking in my words. And as he does, it's like a weight has been lifted from the room. As if offering him my support lessens his burden.
"I don't want to talk to you, Dottie," he says slowly.
I stiffen, not expecting those words.
"You don't?"
He shakes his head, then cups my face with both his hands and pulls me toward him. "I don't want to talk. I want to make love to you."
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but his eyes are hungry with desire.
And my body responds to his touch, waking up from a fifteen-month slumber.
"Please, Dottie. I don't want to talk right now... I want to feel like a man who is still living."
I nod, leaning in, needing his mouth on my mine, knowing I would never deny the father of my child his dying wish.Chapter EightMaybe it's unfair to unburden myself with the woman who barely knows me. But she stands in this office listening to me, as I cry in front of her, she tells me she will be a shoulder for me to cry on.
She doesn't ask me for a single thing—her and me... in a different life... a life where I wasn't going to die... we could've been something beautiful.
We could have made a life we would have been proud of.
Hell, she's the reason my life is something I'm proud of at all.
I never considered philanthropy before I met her. I was nothing but a greedy mother fucker. But all that changed when she walked into my life. And she doesn't even understand it.
She doesn't seem to realize the effect she has on me.
Her mouth is so close to mine, her lips so tender and pink. Her eyes rimmed in red and I imagine her crying over me, over the news.
I hate that my life has caused her any pain, and the fact that she's giving herself to me, again, is more than I fucking deserve.
When she kisses me, and wraps her arms around me; when she leans into me, it's with an ache I understand. She needs this and I need her.
My arms wrap around her waist, pulling her closer to me. My cock is already hard as I remember her naked flesh against my chest at the pool.
All I want is to see her body again. Hell, I haven't slept with a single person since we were together. That amounts to fifteen months of jacking off all by my lonesome to her memory.
To images of her... her polka dot swimsuit, her perfect tits bobbing in the water, her creamy skin that had never been touched.
Now she's here.
I push everything off my desk. Papers scatter and books fall and, hell, I think a laptop crashes to the floor.
She looks at me wide-eyed, surprised. She doesn't understand my hunger.
But then she's ripping off my shirt, unbuckling my belt, and I realize I didn't give her enough credit.
She understands my hunger because she’s fucking famished. Her hands run up and down my chest, whimpering as she touches my body. And I pull down the zipper on the back of her dress, help her to shrug out of the sleeves, letting the dress fall to the floor.
She's wearing a simple cotton bra and a basic pair of panties that tell me she hasn't been fucking strangers.
No, she wouldn't be wearing these underclothes if she had frequent hookups. And I like that she isn't reckless every day.
Hell, maybe she was only reckless one day.
She flips off the overhead light, telling me the fluorescent ones are too much.
I don't care if we're in the dark or if we're in the sunshine—all I want is her. All I need is her. And somehow, right now, I have her.
I lay her back against the desk and pull off her panties, tossing them aside and spreading her knees apart. I press my mouth to her pussy before she has a chance to reconsider. And with one lick, I know this is right.
The day we met, I finger fucked her, I had to open her tightness until she was ready for my cock, but I had never seen her with her legs spread apart, open for me.
And now I lick her up and down, and her back arches against the glass top of my desk, my fingers press into her pussy; rubbing her hood in a circle, and my tongue darts deeper and deeper inside her, wanting to taste and explore her until she comes against me.
